Instructions: List 3 childhood memories and post them on your blog. Then tag someone and have them list their memories in their blogs!

1. I can't remember the exact age I was, but when I was about five or six, I had a sock that I never wore, but instead, carried around with me almost everywhere I went. I pretended it was a ferret. It wasn't even, like, a special sock, or anything...it was just a plain black sock. His name was Sid the Ferret. I always pretended to make him chase around my brother's toy cars and made him fight his plastic dinosaurs. Sadly, I have no idea what happened to Sid. He's probably in a better place, now...attacking some heavenly pair of pants, or digging around in some great couch in the sky...

2. For several years when I was growing up, a kid about my brother's age named Ian lived next door to us. He was pretty much the only other kid in the neighborhood, so he and my brother spent a lot of time together. Once, after my brother had done something to piss me off, Ian and I buried one of the wigger's Tonka dump trucks behind my shed in the back yard. He never found it. I'm tempted to dig it up one of these days and leave it on his bed or something.

3. And now for a shorter one: when they rebuilt Lincoln school, they made a new playground to go with it where the old one had stood before. One of my only memories from second grade is being at recess while Phil Ventimiglia stood a few feet away, gazing wistfully at the half-completed playground, and remarking that he couldn't wait for it to be finished so he could re-enact the movie Titanic on it.

At about ten past midnight, I heard some terrible squealing coming from my basement.At first, I was scared shitless, because my basement has a vent in it that leads outside, and random animals tend to squeeze in through it from time to time. I thought it was a groundhog looking for revenge, or a rabid opossum or something. So I waited until I couldn't hear anything else before arming myself with the most weapon-esque object I could find: an umbrella.When I got downstairs, I found Trotsky and Mohammed huddled around a stack of wood in the corner of the basement, cornering something large and brownish that appeared to be a squirrel. I was kind of pissed by now, because I have no fucking clue how to get a squirrel out of my basement. The "squirrel" ducked under the pile of wood, and I shooed Mo and Trotsky back upstairs so I could at least get a better look at it. After disassembling the hugeass pile of wood, though, I found out that the "squirrel" was actually a baby bunny. AWWWWWWWW. So I abandoned my umbrella and scooped him into a hamper so I could let him free in the wild, but then I noticed that he'd had a shitload of fur ripped out of his back, and it was raw and bleeding. So now the poor thing is in a hamper in my basement with some shredded carrots and a little dish of water. I'm not sure what to do about his wounds, though...they're not serious, he can still hop around a bit, but I don't want him to get all infected and shit.

Yeah, so last night was one of those rare times when I actually had a vivid dream that wasn't about band or being late for the bus. I think the fact that I slept from 4 PM to 5 AM might have had something to do with it.

Anyway, it started out when my sister, my cousin and I were in some park, somewhere, just standing around, when some random faceless policemen came out of nowhere and started yelling at us for being "dirty, disrespectful scum". They decided to punish us by making us pick up all these old, leftover plastic easter eggs that were hidden along a trail. So after picking up a bunch of these plastic easter eggs, I noticed a huge, brown speckled one hidden in a bush. When I went to pick it up, though, it turned out that it was a real egg, and a bird was hatching from it. So I called my sister over to see it (my cousin had randomly disappeared sometime between being called scum and being forced to pick up eggs), she stepped on another egg on her way over, then got really sad because she thought she'd killed whatever was inside it. When I went to look at it, though, the animal inside was completely unharmed, and, for some reason, it was a white puppy with one blue eye and one brown eye...like David Bowie. My aunt, who had suddenly appeared to replace my cousin, decided to name it Politico, and that I should keep it. So because the faceless authority figures had decided to abandon us, we found my aunt's car and went to take Politico back to my house. On the way, though, we stopped in this huge parking lot for no reason and took Politico out with us. For some reason, it was snowing, so once we put Politico on the ground, we couldn't see him anymore and he disappeared completely. We spent the next couple hours looking under all these trucks and cars and shit calling for him, but all we found was this huge, roving gang of kittens, the leader of which was wearing a sweater. Finally, we decided that Politico was lost forever and went back to the car. On the way, we saw some family who stopped me to ask if I'd seen their kitten, who was wearing I sweater. But because I'm apparently as much of an asshole in my dreams as I am in real life, I said no. And then my brother's dumbass alarm clock woke me up and I couldn't get back to sleep.

But what was weird was that throughout the dream, I had my current hair (mostly shaven; blueish green) instead of the hair I usually have when I'm dreaming (waist-length; brown). Weird.Also, when I woke up, I read yesterday's paper, and they're re-releasing Labyrinth. Maybe Politico's David Bowie eyes were a sign.

So after the success of Operation Shitvoid, Dan suggested that I should go over to Chris's house and laugh hysterically outside it, just for shits and giggles (awful pun not intended, I swear).It was two in the morning, I was high on caffeine, and it was one of those it-seemed-like-a-good-idea-at-the-time situations, so I agreed. I put on some sandals and left through my back door.Chris lives about half a block away from me, so I wasn't really that far from my house. I stood across the street from his house for a few minutes before unleashing a very dignified "BWAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!". No sooner had the insane laughter escaped my lips than a police car turned onto my street at the end of the block. Now, many people would probably agree that the best way to appear inconspicuous to a passing policeman is to NOT sprint in the opposite direction as if Bill Clinton is behind you with a hand full of date rape drugs. However, many people would probably also agree that when one is out after curfew laughing like a maniac in front of their archenemy's house and a police car materializes a few feet away, pretty much every mental command except "GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!!!!" appears to be out of order.So short story even shorter, I got the fuck out of there. I didn't think it was possible to out-run a police car in sandals, but I guess you never truly know how fast you can run until there's a police car behind you. I had just reached my house when they caught up with me, and they kept going after I'd shut the door behind me. A brief victory dance ensued, and then I got back to the computer to pass on the story of my valiant escape from the law to Dan.

Instructions: Each player starts with 7 random habits/facts about themselves. People who are tagged need to write on their own blog about their seven things, as well as these rules. At the end of your blog,you need to choose 2 people to get tagged & list their names.

1. I've had a mohawk since Friday morning. Before anyone asks, it looks like shit, but I'm dyeing it as soon as possible, so hopefully it'll look better.

2. I won the sixth grade spelling bee and, in the end, could've gone to the nationals. Looking back, I am so fucking glad I didn't.

3. When I was really young, my mom had to have poison control on speed dial because I ate a lot of weird stuff. On one occasion, I'm told, I ate all the ornamental peppers from a plastic tree in a grocery store checkout line before my mom could even buy it. You'd think I'd have a stomach of steel by now.

4. The Beach Boys make me physically sick. I'm not sure how it works, exactly, but I've never been able to get through "Good Vibrations" or anything of that sort without feeling at least a little dizzy.

5. Remember back in the day, when the Spice Girls, N*Sync and the Backstreet Boys were popular and everyone listened to them? Yeah, I didn't and spent all my time laughing at those who did, which leads me to believe that I was just as bitter as a child as I am today. What the fuck did I DO with my childhood?

6. I know all the words to every verse of the Gilligan's Island theme song. Don't ask why; I've been trying to repress those memories for years.

7. When I'm bored, I draw on the walls of my room. Speaking of which, I should probably erase that portrait of Stalin before my dad goes up there tomorrow to fix the insulation or whatever he's supposed to be doing.

I tag Degression and Keen_thesaurus if she ever uses her livejournal again.

I didn't do much this past week, except watch Les Mis in Concert three times. And Philip Quast's sideburns looked faker each time.

I also cleaned out my closet, and along with the mummified body of Elvis and some other random shit, I found

1. An accordion 2. The leather jacket that I never wear3. Two Pink Floyd LPs4. The 'My paparazzi senses are tingling' shirt5. Three water pistols6. Two dozen safety pins7. Five spent AAA batteries8. Three of the eight watches I wore in seventh grade9. Five dollars10. A grey stapler 11. Some band music from fifth grade12. Half a sheet of notebook paper with 'DIE' written on it

When I was younger, Barbies were the shit. They really were. Just about everyone I knew had at least five Barbies, all with their own tackyass wardrobe, accessories, vehicles, dream houses, pets, drug paraphernalia...yeah. But I never witnessed anyone playing with the things. What can you do with a Barbie, really? I mean, other than shoving firecrackers in their very conveniently hollow torsos? I seem to remember this one version of Barbie...it was weird. It basically had wings instead of arms, and it attached to this handle thing by the feet. You'd wind up the handle, then pull this string really fast, and the Barbie'd spin into the air, like a pink, glittery ceiling fan OF DEATH! And I remember on more than one occasion, having to scream and run away from a rogue Killer Ceiling Fan Propeller Barbie Thing as it buzzed viciously through the air. Looking back on it, those things were freaking dangerous, man. I remember Spice Girls Barbies from when the Spice Girls were popular. My cousin told me about the girl she babysat, Sophia, who had spent the entire night crying, once, because her little sister tore all her Spice Girl Barbies' heads off. I also remember laughing uproariously as she was telling me this.

I had one Barbie, I think, other than Ceiling Fan Vortex of Death Barbie. She was Sea World themed and came with a plastic whale. The whale kicked ass. In fact, I'm pretty sure I still have that whale somewhere in my room. As for the Barbie...after she was given a blue mohawk and fatally wounded in a freak orca attack, she died in a tragic firework accident. May she rest in pieces.All over my back yard.

SO ANYWAY. School randomly getting canceled for two days is awesome. I can't remember the last time we had a snow day.